


Whether You Fail or Fly

by crispy_vaporwaves



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, With surprise guests at the end, i would tag Natsumi but she isn’t an active character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22434214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispy_vaporwaves/pseuds/crispy_vaporwaves
Summary: “I-Is that what you do?”Peko blinks slowly, facing the ceiling instead of him.“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”
Relationships: Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	Whether You Fail or Fly

**Author's Note:**

> It took me four days or so to write this, please let me know what you think.

Two weeks ago, he never wanted a tool. Tonight, he’s grateful for his hitwoman.

He never blacked out during a fight— savoring every cut and bruise (or as many as she let him get), so he was faster and stronger the next time around. His rage was a fickle thing, and even if it he wasn’t a mafioso, he believed, it would still be consuming, vigorous, and perfervid. Never the petty type, his anger was direct; he only saw point B no matter the obstacles in the way. If he couldn’t move them with words, he thought he could smash through them as he refused to lose sight of his goal. That goal being someone’s else’s tooth, finger, blood, and sometimes all three at once.

Tonight was no different.

She never got hit during a fight— she was fast, strong, and cunning. Most of all, she knew how to hide her wounds from him; one bad day and years of training made her an expert. Her rage was restrained, and even if she wasn’t a tool it would still be kept within bounds, repressed, and leashed. She forced herself to see his point B; points C through Z were closed, because the worst case scenarios could happen if they reached points C through Z. If they didn’t cower before him when they got there, she would make them bow.

Tonight, was no different.

All it took was an oblivious idiot with a weird hairstyle in the class, and they finally put the pieces together. Of course it was that obsessive bitch who clung to his other bitch classmate. Fuyuhiko had half the mind to kill her off as well, just by association (those pictures couldn’t have been anyone else’s work), but, again, that’s what Peko was for: when he didn’t have half the mind to think. Though, to be fair, she did also hesitate in stopping his plan— preventing it if only because a trail of corpses would lead back to them.

So, he would have to make this one count.

And he did.

When the two finally returned to his dorm room (the girls had a louder lock at the entrance), they both collapsed from exhaustion: him at the foot of his bed and her at his closed door. It’s not like they went far to dump the corpse; in fact, it had been one their top priorities for clean up. Peko had suggested a copycat murder, yet Fuyuhiko argued against it. With everyone on high alert, the police (if they even bothered) had 29,998 other people to interview before they would be called in. He didn’t want to hide the body; no, he wanted her to rot— maggots crawling in and out of the holes they made of her. Such morbidity had not been his style, but it would be a lie if he were satisfied with her death alone.

They chose the bank of a nearby river.

Unsurprisingly, she stood before he could; once the adrenaline of his killing passed, his body felt sore and his muscles tensed up again. It felt as though any movement made cracked his joints, while his eyes briefly crossed over. He shook his head— he shouldn’t feel this weak, not when Peko was the one who carried, quite literal, dead weight in her kendo bag when they walked to the river. When they arrived, he waited for her to unwrap the corpse before taking its arms and she took its legs. He can still feel the force it took to swing it back and forth before flinging it down the bank. After that, they walked back to the boys dormitories. Taking public transportation was out of the question, and he couldn’t face his family by asking for a ride even if the deed was done. Perhaps if he had done things the more ‘traditional’ way, he would have been asleep by now, but that didn’t sit right to him. No, Fuyuhiko had to follow through on everything; this whole process was too personal to not get involved (although that in itself is aexact reason why he shouldn’t have been involved). He wouldn’t be able to face Natsumi if he accomplished such a cold hearted, empty revenge.

He forced himself to sit up even if made him want to throw up.

“You need to bathe.”

“It can wait until morning.”

“No, it cannot.” He watched as she reached into a separate duffel bag, “The stenches of blood and death are ones that linger if you do not remove them immediately.”

From the bag, she pulled out an antibacterial liquid body wash and shampoo. She had also brought a roll of black bags, a bottle filled with what he assumed were cleaning chemicals, and a cardboard box.

“Young master, please give me your cap and gloves.” He forgot he even had them on, “Thank you. I will burn these items, so if you have any trash you would like to dispose please place it in this bag.”

Not only were those put in the bag, but her black cap and gloves were tossed in as well; he hears her folding the the aforementioned paper she wrapped Sato in before throwing it away as well.

Sato. Even her name was repugnant and simplistic.

His arm rested on a raised knee, “Do you need to burn my clothes as well?”

Watching her fix the box and line it with another black bag— the way her movements were quick and sharp nearly gave him vertigo, but it’s her calm demeanor (doing everything as if from muscle memory) that gives him chill. This...was truly her speciality, wasn’t it?

“No, that will not be necessary. That is one of your more expensive suits, is it not?” He nodded, “Then I shall send it the manor to have it carefully cleaned.”

“What about your clothes?”

“Please do not worry about that.”

“Do you have anything to change into?”

“Young master.” She looked like she wants to say something, “Please go bathe.”

He grabbed onto the footboard behind him, and stood, albeit struggling, before she could reach to help him. She’s worried about him (always, always worrying about him), that much is obvious by her facial expressions, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue with her. He took both bottles before grabbing his nightwear, and headed towards the shower room.

“There’s a washer-dryer set in this closet. Wash your clothes.”

Normally, it took him 15 minutes to get himself clean, but the falling of hot water on his back kept him in for five minutes longer. For five minutes longer, he mulled over his ambivalent thoughts— remembering how Sato’s face contorted into shock, and then overcame by dread and terror at the sight of him...it elevated him. The way she tried to run from him, but Peko threw her to the ground; kept down by an elbow between the shoulders, yet her head kept up by her hair. He’s never felt that kind of power: having everything and everyone in his control. For once, they feared him and not her. For once, someone begged at the feet for his mercy and not his father.

Did Natsumi beg for her life?

Was she afraid?

Did she call out for him?

Then came the boiling rage once again; the jarring reality that it didn’t matter if he killed one person or left an entire town to die, he still had to bury his little sister. He knew her death wasn’t his fault, he’s not that delusional, but he thinks he could have stopped it. If he stopped running away from being compared to her, would she still be alive? He could have been a better brother if he wasn’t such a fucking child. Would that have developed her talent faster? If he tried to put in a good word for her with the recruiters— persuade them to look into her, would that have kept her safe? If he let Peko go check on her, she would still be here, wouldn’t she?

He watched as the blood from his hand (there’s only a crack on the tiled wall) washed down the drain, and then turned the faucet off altogether. He didn’t need to pass out form all the heat. As he dried himself, he noticed the basket he left in the washroom before the shower had almost been emptied save for his underwear and socks. Well that took care of that.

Exiting the bathroom, he kept a towel draped over his head, and found her meditating on her knees in the same clothes she arrived in. Everything around her had been ‘prepped’, so to speak; the box of his clothes was closed and ready to be shipped out, the ‘burn bag’ kept in her kendo duffel, and her black yukata was folded neatly next to her.

~~That’s what the face of a professional looked like.~~

“There’s an extra clean towel in the washroom. ‘Left the soap and shampoo inside the shower for you.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t miss the way her voice sounded weaker than before. Nor does he miss the redness in the whites of her eyes.

Had Peko been crying?

She cleared her throat, and he had her attention; of course, that itself was the problem.

“Young master...please turn around so that I may undress and place my clothes in the wash. It would be inappropriate otherwise.”

Fuyuhiko didn’t verbally respond, but he complied with her wishes— the blond sat arms crossed on his bed opposite to the small hallway. Though, he only now realizes that the body mirror he used each morning aligned with said area, and created a distorted reflection. Within a second, his golden tired eyes closed to prevent the chance of seeing anything beyond the small of her back.

The gangster relaxes, somewhat, after he heard the sound of his shower for the second time that night. Slowly, he picked his feet up onto his bed and laid his head on his pillow; it felt like his head would explode with all the pulsing in his veins.

He blinked.

2:20 AM.

In three and half more hours, he will be awake for twenty four hours— nothing unusual for him, but worth noting in silence.

He breathed.

He heard his bodyguard shuffle, throwing her wet clothes into the dryer no doubt, and then returned into the shower just as quickly.

2:36 AM

When Peko finished showering, it hadn’t been as hot as when he exited— humid, yes, but he knew she liked to take cool showers. He also knew that despite all her yukatas being black, they had subdued patterns on each of them if one looked closely enough. He had gotten two of them for her birthday and Christmas last year, after all, and nearly had an aneurysm over convincing her to keep each one. For this year, Fuyuhiko had his eye on a specific thin, golden chain— one she could hide under her clothes— sold by a nearby jewelry store. Truth be told, this was only half of his choice, but it was the realistic half.

The other half had been a pendant of a crescent moon with a dragon wrapped around it ( ~~though he’d give her the world in a heartbeat if she asked for it, statuses be damned~~ ).

He sat up, “That’s the birthday one, right? The one you’re wearing.”

“Yes, it is. Thank you once again.” She switched sides and continued to squeeze the water out of her hair, “The material is incredibly comfortable and breathable.”

He looked he had something to say, all of a sudden.

“Peko when was the last time we bathed together?”

He’s just as surprised to ask her that as she is hear the question,

“Um...” But of course she takes the question seriously, “I believe you had requested we stopped doing so a week before your seventh birthday.” Of course her memory was good like that.

Peko told him to put his worries aside, and to sleep for the rest of the night— that it was advisable to take today off as no one would bother him for it.However, he only half listened as he saw her pack everything together. Without warning, it felt like all the gravity in the room decided to center in his chest, threatening to pull him down if he didn’t keep his head up. Fingers not his own wrapping around his heart, and clutched it as if to have it explode in chest. She’s going to go back to her room, she said.

She’s leaving him.

She’s leaving him.

She’s leaving him.

“H-Hey, it’s the middle of the night, there’s some pretty drunk bastard roaming a out, no doubt.”

“I’ve handled worse.”

“You’re hair is still wet.”

“The air is still warm.” Her shinai is propped onto her back, “Please do not worry me. I will be fine.”

Fucking hypocrite.

“The girls dormitories have a loud lock at the entrance, don’t they?”

“As I said, please do not worry about me. I’ll use my sword to climb over the fence and enter through my window.”

She’s leaving him all alone.

“Then, if there is nothing else you need of me, I shall leave you alone now.” But just as she reached for the handle, she paused.

“What?”

“That Sato deserved to die. No, she deserved a fate worse than death. Even Koizumi should...” Her shaking breath hadn’t gone unnoticed by him, “I digress. You did it; with your strength and your wits, you killed Sato. That being said, accepting the fact you’ve murdered another person is not without trouble. Regardless if they deserved to die or not, regardless of how strong or skilled you are, regardless of premeditation or in the heat of the moment. Someone’s blood is now on your hands.”

“And there’s going to be more in the future.” Of all the times and of all people to be such a miserable asshole towards

“Yes...I suppose that is inevitable. My apologies, young master.”How dare she lecture him, “Please sleep well.”

She’s going to walk out that door, and she’s going to die just like Natsumi.

“Stay with me.”

Fuyuhiko hadn’t been sure if the words left his mouth, and, if they did, he didn’t know if she heard him. Not that he had any right to make demands or give her an order after brushing her off. These mood swings of his were, no doubt, confusing for her. She just wanted to help him with something he truly knew nothing about (despite it being his birthright), and he practically told her to fuck off. She always wanted to help him. Make herself useful to him with no damn regards to her own needs.

Was he so incompetent that she couldn’t rely on him?

In the end, it seemed that she did hear him, but it’s his fault for not communicating properly when she kneels before the door placing her shinai on her lap.

“I don’t mean guard my door. I meant that I want you to stay the night with me.”

Fuck.

“Young master...?”

“That definitely came out the wrong way. Look, what I meant was,” He exhales forcibly, “What I mean is...remember when we were really small? How you stayed in bed with me when I had those horrible nightmares?”

Then, suddenly, it clicked.

“Yes, I do.”

Out came another sigh, but he’s still agitated,“L-Like that, but only if you’re okay with doing so. A-And don’t say yes just because I want it, understand? If not, I’ll take the floor and you sleep on the bed.”

“Please don’t sleep on the floor at my expense. I...I want...to.”

Fuyuhiko should know better than anyone how difficult it has been for Peko to express her desires truthfully. He knew that she thought asking him for something had been forbidden. That requesting something outside their ‘professional’ parameters meant she was an ungrateful miscreant. The fact that she agreed did not shock him, but given that it came from her will did.Still, he wanted to rule out any possibility in which she felt obligated to agree with him.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. I want to sleep with you.” Her confidence would have fooled him if not for the blush on her pale face.

“R-Right then.”With a simple push of his arms, Fuyuhiko placed himself to the left side of the bed. The mattress itself had been full sized (yet another benefit of an upgraded dorm room), so it wasn’t as if they had to force themselves into an inappropriate position to fit. At worst, they may have ended up closer than when they fell asleep, but that did not necessarily violate his own morals. He had to remind himself that, puberty aside, they had done this before and it was no different from those times.

“Young master? You’re trembling.”

Fuck.

“I-It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sir, please don’t force yourself to do this. I truly don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“Shut up, I told you it’s fine already. Just turn off the lights and come here.”

Within a few seconds the lights were flicked off, and now the soft glow of his small lamp was the only source of light in the room. The mattress dips when she finally sits down, and hears the faint sound Peko fixing her bamboo sword in the small space between the bed frame and the nightstand. Her glasses were the last to leave her body, and joined the lamp on said stand. However, before she could lay down Fuyuhiko stopped her with a jolt; he reached under the pillow to find the tanto knife he always kept hidden. She had lent it to him long before they arrived at Hope’s Peak Academy— when they went to different middle schools, in fact. It hadn’t been taboo to carry a weapon, but no one bothered to give him one; he even had to use part of his allowance to buy his favorite brass knuckles. The clan members assumed with Peko by his side she was the weapon he could use. Nevertheless, the silver hair girl seemed satisfied that he kept it with him for the past few years. It was one of her own, after all, that she had picked specifically for his own skills and strength.

Once he placed the weapon beneath him, their bodies collapsed on top of the blankets— each letting out an exhaustive sigh.

“Hey Peko? My bad for cutting you off like and saying shit like that.”

He hears her hair rustle as she turned her head to him, taking a moment to choose her words carefully (though, it’s his fault she can’t speak comfortably with him).

“It is no bother. In any case, the young master is right: once you ascend to your role as the oyabun, you will have even more enemies.” Her tone becomes more assertive, “Rest assured, I will be the one to dirty my hands and cut them down if they oppose you.”

“I still should let you speak.” He stared back at the ceiling,“You said something like that before, ‘Someone’s blood is my hand now’. What were you gonna say after that?”

“Simply that it would be wise to detach yourself from what you’ve done. Regret is futile, but to associate this with any kind of pleasure is dangerous as well.” In the darkness of his room he can just barely make out her face, “If you let Sato haunt you it will be as if you never killed her at all.”

“I-Is that what you do?”

Peko blinks slowly, facing the ceiling instead of him.

“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”

At least now he knew where she was whenever he found her room empty. Or maybe, he always knew and deluded himself into thinking she was staying up late to practice.

“When was the first time,” Why does he keep pushing her about this, “That you killed someone?”

“When those men kidnapped you and I, and brought us to the mountains. Once I realized that you were unharmed, I went and killed them all. It was the only we could escape safely.”

“...” What does he even say to that sort of thing? They were five years old when that happened. At five years of age, the world (his world, their world) turned her into a murderer.

“Young master, I am sorry for not doing a better job that night.”

“Peko, what the hell are you talking about? I only survived that night because of you.”

The swordswoman sat up, feet swinging onto the floor— he couldn’t see the expression she was making, but he didn’t need to know she was blaming herself.

“But I only made things worse. If I wasn’t so afraid that night,” Her fingers grip onto the sheets, inhaling deeply, “If it wasn’t so weak, the young master wouldn’t have been petrified. If I kept my head clear, like I was supposed to, we would have gotten lost!”

“We were five— even grown adults would have been scared out of their fuckin’ heads.”

He doesn’t expect her to turn around so suddenly, and it caused him to sit up as well. Again, he could barely see her face, but he can damn well hear it in her voice.

“That is not an excuse! I am the young master’s tool, protecting the young master...killing for the young master, that is my only purpose. I should never make you doubt the safety of your life! If I were smarter that night, then the young master would not have been afraid. If I were faster, Lady Natsumi would still be alive and the young master wouldn’t have to have had dirty his hands.”

What?

Fuyuhiko’s silence worried her, and the panic sets within; she messed up. She was always messing up. Why couldn’t she just be competent for him? In a second, Peko regained control of her emotions and thinks she removed her expressions. In another second, she was back on the floor performing Dogeza...

The words flowed in and out of his ears, refusing to stay. He thinks— no, he knows she’s apologizing, but he doesn’t understand why.

...

What?

“...Stop.”

“Please do punishment unto me as you see fit for my loose tongue.”

“Stop it, already. Just stop...”

He’s tired.

“Young master...”

“You were just following my orders. I’m her brother, so it was my responsibility to check on her.” It returned again: the heavy feeling in his chest, the one that drags him to the floor and plops him next to her.

She’s tired.

“Sir, you mustn’t blame yourself. If I were a tool capable of being trusted, then I am sure your orders would have been different! If I were more sensible— young master...?”

They’re both so exhausted.

“Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can trust.” He was suffocating, “You always put your life on the line for me, with no damn regard to your own. You're not invincible, Peko.”

“That is exactly why I intend to fulfill my purpose as your tool until I am corpse at your feet.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” (He’s grateful that the room was sound proof), “I don’t want a tool! Tools can’t die. They become dull, they break, and you replace them, but they definitely cannot die. If some fucking rotten cunt smashed your skull in with gravel in a swimsuit you’d die!”

She sat up, “I-I wouldn’t let that happened, I promise!”

“But you can’t know that, you can’t possibly fucking know that! What the point if you’re dead?!”

She can’t do it again to him, not now. She can’t fall apart on him. Not again. That wasn’t fair to him. She has to be strong, she has to be strong, she has to be...

“Natsumi thought she was untouchable, that’s why she was all starting shit with everyone around her. And now what? Now we have to fucking cremate her.” She sees the way his eyes plead with her, his hands desperately grabbing onto her shoulder, “So stop saying you’ll protect me until the day you die, because if I have to bury you too—”

His throated closed on him, and he nearly chokes on himself— as if his body couldn’t finish a thought he never really wanted to have in the first place.

So. This is what it felt like? Breaking their nine and ten year streak of no crying.

“...Young master?”

“Please don’t leave me! I can’t do this on my own, Peko, I need you!”

“Young master! There’s no way I would ever want to leave your side!” She struggles to steady her breathing, her hands clutching onto his arms, “There are so many things in this world that can hurt you, so many things that I cannot protect you from and I hate it. If something fatal were to happen to you...being expected to live on is just too cruel for me.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it either, you know?” He stopped crying, but his voice still hadn’t recovered, “My little sister died because I failed to protect her, and if you died because of my actions...I seriously couldn’t...”

He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed someone else to touch him so personally— running away even from his mother’s touch. Her hands were warm on his face, and he lets himself fall into them. He knows once they wake up again, once they went home, this closeness between them would have to be forgotten. He presses his hands against hers, and sighs;

So warm.

So human.

“Peko, from now on it’s just you and me. Not as master and tool...just together, okay? We live together and we die together.”

For once, she lets him help her do something: raising her up and leading her to the bed. When they wake up later on, she’s knows this could never be brought up again. An indescribable dream or a sleep deprived hallucination, that’s all she can remember it as. Though, in raw honesty, that seemed better to her than nothing at all.

When their bodies hit the bed for the second, they do so facing each other— much closer than his morals would have allowed. It just felt natural, like how their hands intertwined wish ease.

“Then let us die of old age and nothing else.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Finally, they fell asleep.

———

A few months later

“Ugh, that’s so totally LAME! Your sister dies and you just move on with your hit-man-squeeze??? Then again, I can totally relate to that. I mean, just being within 100 feet of grosses me the hell out.”

“And you’re high pitched voice gives me a splintering headache,” But it’s said with such a loving tone, “In any case, should we separate them? That might drive one of them over the edge.”

She rolled her eyes so hard that she was afraid her contacts would get stuck behind her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever! That’s too much effort for energy I do not have. Besides, I’m over the ‘murder the lover for the shock value’ trope. It’s done and over with, so out of style!”

Junko continued to watch through her binoculars; their upperclassmen, it seemed, were getting ready to move into the new building. How cute, she thought, after the funeral came a honeymoon.

“Besides, a codependency like theirs has been brewing in the pot for years now. We just need to turn up the heat, upupupupu!”

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, just so you know they did NOT have sex at the end, they really did just pass out while holding hands. Also, I refute the whole video brainwashing and in my own headcanon (tbh the game as well) Junko personally went to the remnants for that bonus ending but I digress. I know they anime had to cut a lot of corners for budgeting, but if that were the case maybe it would have been best if we just got a manga (not that that’s easier mind you), because too many corners were cut imo. Also, maybe I’m just imagining things or reading too into it, but it seemed that the two were more relaxed with each other after Natsumi’s death?? So I don’t know if there were scared closer together or if they just gave up the distance because of her death.


End file.
